


Push

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, KNBxNBA, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-08 02:42:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10376070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: Maybe it’s more accurate to say he’s falling more in love with Tatsuya and the way Tatsuya loves basketball, and that’s what makes him love basketball more himself(KNBxNBA)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justlikeswitchblades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/gifts).



> i had a bunch of different ideas but i ended up going with this so i hope you like it!!

Several years into his NBA career, Taiga still finds himself falling a little more in love with basketball every day. It’s intertwined with how he’s falling a little more in love with Tatsuya every day. like the threads of a net on a hoop; they cross over and over, amplifying each other, complementing each other, and he doesn’t want there to ever be a limit to either. It’s in the way he catches Tatsuya’s early games on TV, how determined Tatsuya is from the get-go to sink in his teeth and drive the ball forward; it’s the motions that the zoomed-out camera doesn’t totally capture but Taiga can picture because he’s seen them so many times from way back when Tatsuya had started figuring them out and implementing them up until now when they’re practically perfect but it’s not good enough. It’s in the way Tatsuya’s constantly reinventing himself, as more of a hybrid guard in high school and college, a more flexible playmaker in his early pro career, the way he’ll do pretty much anything if it means he gets to play more or win more. It’s in the way they talk on the phone and Tatsuya puts him on speaker and Taiga’s sure he’s practicing his shooting motion in front of the mirror and looking for the invisible flaws. Maybe it’s more accurate to say he’s falling more in love with Tatsuya and the way Tatsuya loves basketball, and that’s what makes him love basketball more himself—but the end result is the same and Taiga’s not going to argue semantics with himself.

It’s what pushes him to be a better player and gives him that extra push to stay longer after practice (or what makes him not need a push at all sometimes), to work harder, to go for the risky plays (if indirectly). It’s because he wants to; he loves to; it’s because Tatsuya deserves no less from him and he deserves no less from himself. (Sometimes, he’ll call Tatsuya afterwards when it’s late on the east coast but Tatsuya’s stayed up to watch anyway, and, voice edged with sleepiness, he chastises Taiga for running off to make a dunk when the correct move would have been a foul or three—Taiga tells him it worked, didn’t it?, and Tatsuya concedes in the end and something warm settles in Taiga’s chest.)

It’s what makes him even more excited about playing against Tatsuya; on top of playing a good opponent and facing Tatsuya to begin with there’s a sense of heightened stakes, of needing to do better than his usual standard, to meet Tatsuya where he is on skill and effort and come out on top, to prove himself to Tatsuya all over again. He’s ready for the game to fucking start by the time practice is halfway through, and it’s kind of obvious to everyone (all of the assistant coaches and several of his teammates have told him to chill already but it’s more than kind of hard right now).

“Are you excited because the Knicks are on a six-game win streak or because it’s against your boy Himuro?”

“Both,” says Taiga, sinking a three from just outside the arc (so yeah, it wobbles around the rim for a little while, but it still goes in).

No fewer than three people tell him not to lose focus before he leaves practice, but he’s not going to.

Tatsuya had gotten in really late last night, too late to not just go back to the hotel with the team, but he’s napping in Taiga’s bed when Taiga gets back home and if anything could calm him down enough to sort of sleep it’s this.

“Hey,” Tatsuya whispers, bumping his nose against Taiga’s.

Taiga goes in for the kiss but Tatsuya moves away, half-sighing.

“My mouth is too dry.”

His voice does sound a little hoarse, but honestly Taiga doesn’t really care (it’s been so fucking long since they’ve seen each other in person).

“Water?”

“I can get some,” says Tatsuya, but Taiga’s already gotten up.

When he returns, Tatsuya’s propped up on his elbows, the covers spilling off of him, his hair mussed up from sleep and the glass nearly slips from Taiga’s hand. He’s never going to get tired of looking at Tatsuya, like this or when he’s more put-together or at the end of a game when he’s played close to forty minutes and sweat is coming out of every one of his pores and he’s still driving play forward fast and hard. He takes the water and takes a sip; Taiga crawls back in bed and moves until he’s up against Tatsuya.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Okay,” says Tatsuya, laughing.

They don’t turn it into anything more, because Tatsuya’s still so fucking tired and the hours before they have to be at United for the game are shrinking away too quickly.

Taiga would be hard-pressed to say Tatsuya looks as tired as he probably is at the start of the game; he looks so smooth in warmups, so relaxed and ready when he’s going over plays with the coaches (no, Taiga’s not staring, okay). Taiga’s ready to start but they still have lineups, the anthem, probably a commercial break too.

And then they’re finally (fucking finally!) on opposite sides of the tipoff, Coach’s last-second strategy dump racing through Taiga’s head (slow them down, he says, the minute you start playing their game you’re going to lose, but trying to slow them down won’t work and they can keep up no matter how fast Tatsuya wants to move things and they don’t know they can’t because they haven’t tried).

The Knicks actually start out at normal speed, even with Tatsuya at the one, and it’s probably a trap. Taiga wonders briefly if it counts as one if the Bulls are building up a lead, if he’s guarding Tatsuya and Tatsuya’s stalling for time until he moves away or tries a swift pass (even though it looks like he’s itching to rush in and challenge Taiga, force Taiga to commit and try to block a shot). It slows down enough that both teams almost get called for shot-clock violations, and Taiga’s itching for it to just go faster.

And then Tatsuya goes for it, as if this had all just been a long windup leading up to a longer spring ahead at full speed. They play like the ball’s on fire, like they can’t stand to hold it, pass-pass-dribble-pass-shoot, and it’s maybe a couple of minutes until they’re at the Bulls’ heels, one or two points back, and they grab the lead on a sharp alley-oop pass from Tatsuya (before Taiga has time to get there) right to a two-handed dunk from their center.

Tatsuya seems to turn it up another level after that, twisting and turning to get away and under Taiga, looking nowhere and taking a shot or a pass (and Taiga can’t even guess which one; sometimes he gets lucky and lunges the right way before Tatsuya can recommit; sometimes he doesn’t). It’s like Tatsuya’s been trying to keep one step ahead of him for so long he doesn’t even have to think about it.

Taiga comes back in the game near the end of the second; the Knicks have a single-digit lead but it still feels more dangerous a deficit than it should be for a home game. Tatsuya’s defending him too, this time; he’s playing on the inside, almost a head shorter than the next guy there. Taiga’s center tries to muscle him out of the way; Tatsuya doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move, grapples for position. Taiga can see his guard on the outside, in the perfect spot for a high pass; he jerks his head and the ball comes in. This time it’s Tatsuya trying to get in front of him, not to overpower him physically (he can’t, not like this) but to throw him off enough that he drops or fumbles the ball—Taiga brings it in anyway, dips it low like he’s going to make another pass and then brings it up again; Tatsuya’s body follows him, a delayed mirror. He leaps, trying to clear Tatsuya’s fingers; Tatsuya jumps but it’s not nearly high enough to stop Taiga; his fingertips brush the air beneath the ball and Taiga shoves it through the hoop.

They all get lectured about game pacing and a few stupid fouls during halftime, which feels entirely too long but in a good way, like there’s time for Taiga to build his excitement back up even higher and solidify his resolve to help his teammates all push their way up out of this hole they’ve gotten into.

Tatsuya has other plans. Taiga’s still manning him on defense, but he’s pulling the plays outside, a quarter-step slower but with just enough time to squeeze everything out. He stops, dribbles, fakes a pass Taiga doesn’t fall for. He jumps; Taiga jumps, fast and high enough to block whatever’s coming, but Tatsuya leans back just enough to push the ball higher, over his hands, the perfect kind of fadeaway he rarely uses. He lands on his feet, maybe three feet away from Taiga, a smile twitching at his lips, and Taiga doesn’t have to look behind him to know where the ball is headed. Fuck.

And Tatsuya’s got the momentum now and he’s running with it, passing the ball with ever-quicker snaps of his wrists, forcing turnovers and passes to barely-open guys from the Bulls’ point guard. Tatsuya fouls him twice, but the free throws aren’t the concern; it’s more about beating him mentally which he absolutely fucking has, and as if he’s playing some sort of game Tatsuya switches back to guarding Taiga, aggressively pushing the plays further outside. Taiga pushes back; he’s winning more of these battles but it’s a race against time as much as it is against Tatsuya; the more time he spends pushing past the less time he has to focus on his layups (and some of them bounce off the backboard and give the Knicks another defensive rebound) and the less time the Bulls have to cut the lead and catch up. And even knowing this, Taiga can’t prevent it; even knowing this he’s going in against Tatsuya again and again and there’s no other feeling like it, like Tatsuya’s posing him a question and a challenge and it’s up to him to answer with all he’s got.

There isn’t enough time to catch up, not with a couple more of those beautiful fadeaways from Tatsuya (at some point Taiga’s going to figure out how to block them, but it won’t be this game), not with Taiga’s teammates getting frustrated and taking dumb fouls the way they are. The Knicks win by fifteen and it feels like they’ve won by way more.

The Knicks’ next game is in Indiana so they’re staying here tonight, something Taiga very much appreciates. Tatsuya’s won this round, and a loss always feels shitty (especially one where they’ve been outplayed plain and simple, no flukes or close calls) but regardless of how large a role basketball plays in his relationship with Tatsuya, Taiga can always sweep it a little bit to the side and away for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t mean he’s not going to tell Tatsuya how well he’s played, though.

“You were wonderful,” Taiga says first thing, and he means it absolutely, pulling Tatsuya into a hug.

“You did well, too,” says Tatsuya, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

There’s more they could say; they could backtrack down that basketball road and Taiga could say how much he wants to learn to block that shot, or things about the game pace, all of which Tatsuya’s already picked up on in the game, though, so it would all be redundant and there’s more that Taiga wants to say and do right now.

He turns his face to the side, catches Tatsuya’s mouth with his, brings his hands down to Tatsuya’s ass. Tatsuya squirms, pushing up against him, running his tongue over Taiga’s teeth. Taiga hasn’t even properly gotten to enjoy the sight of Tatsuya in a suit but he wants it off right now (or at least very soon), already fumbling with the buttons on Tatsuya’s shirt. Tatsuya breaks the kiss and laughs, and Taiga feels the vibrations of his skin through his shirt.

“You want me that badly?”

“Yeah,” says Taiga.

Tatsuya’s eye widens ever-so-slightly and Taiga takes the opportunity to scoop him up off the floor and into his arms; he’s solid but light enough (well, Taiga’s gotten strong enough) that Taiga doesn’t stumble backward, just carries him across the living room, shoving the bedroom door open with his shoulder (and Tatsuya starts kissing his neck right about then and Taiga’s awfully glad the bed is so close to the door). They fall to the bed a tangled mess, Taiga’s hands finally free to come up and cup Tatsuya’s face, wind his fingers through Tatsuya’s hair. Tatsuya’s squeezing his legs around Taiga’s waist; he’s the one undoing Taiga’s tie now, fingers deft and steady even like this.

Tatsuya’s face is flushed when Taiga lets up for a minute; his pupil’s blown wide and his lips are swollen, and for a second Taiga’s immensely proud that he’s done this; he’s gotten Tatsuya to look this undone (and yeah, it’s happened so many times before but it feels this fucking great every time).

“Conceited,” Tatsuya says between breaths, slipping his hand below the waistline of Tatsuya’s pants.

“You love it,” says Taiga.

“Why do you think I let you do it?” says Tatsuya, leaning up for another, quicker, kiss.

But Taiga’s ready to go back, push for more; he’s halfway to another kiss when Tatsuya slides his hand farther down and palms his cock through his underwear and, well, it’s a little bit hard to focus after that.

Taiga wakes up with Tatsuya’s face in his chest and Tatsuya’s arm thrown over his waist. He’s still totally asleep, and Taiga would stay for a little bit and look at him but he’s really hungry (he hasn’t really eaten anything since before the game, half a deli sandwich on the way back home and that’s it. He looks back at Tatsuya, pushes the hair off his face and looks at all of it as a whole, the eyelash stuck to his right cheek and the asymmetry of his closed eyelids, the straight teeth behind his open mouth, his unlined skin. Taiga kisses his forehead gently; Tatsuya doesn’t stir. Then he disentangles himself and heads out.

It’s cold in the kitchen; he’d left an old hoodie out here with holes on the cuffs and that’ll do for now. The clock on the coffeemaker says it’s close to three; even after eating he should be able to get back to sleep. Taiga checks the refrigerator; the light’s still too bright but he’s got eggs and those are simple enough to make.

He’s not sure if it’s his stumbling around in the kitchen or the sizzling of the pan or something else that’s woken up Tatsuya, but something has; he appears in the doorway yawning, hair back over his face in an approximation of his normal look. He’s wearing a pair of Taiga’s old UCLA sweatpants ; the elastic’s mostly worn out but he’s folded the waistband over several times to make up for it and they’re riding pretty low; Taiga wishes he were more awake to appreciate the look better.

“Don’t burn it,” Tatsuya mumbles, and Taiga whips his head back around; the eggs look fine—they need to be flipped, though.

“Cold?” Taiga says when he turns around again.

Tatsuya shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

He still moves closer to the stove, close enough for Taiga to move to meet him and drop his arm around Tatsuya’s shoulders while still watching the eggs.

“You guys are a couple of pieces away from making a run,” says Tatsuya, and it takes a second before Taiga realizes he’s talking about basketball again.

Tatsuya loves playing armchair GM and talk about basketball as a business; some of the time he’s kind of bullshitting but right now he’s totally right and Taiga knows it. He turns back to the eggs instead of answering; there done. He flips them onto a plate and offers it to Tatsuya.

“Want some?”

Tatsuya nods, and Taiga grabs them both clean forks from the dish rack.

“You need a better point guard,” says Tatsuya, gathering a piece of egg white onto his fork and poking the yolk until it bursts.

He looks up at Taiga through his eyelashes, and Taiga wonders for a second if he’s just teasing, even if he is right.

“Are you offering your services?” Taiga says.

He sets his fork back down on the plate; Tatsuya does the same.

“I have…other commitments,” Tatsuya says, but he’s got a fistful of Taiga’s hoodie in his hand and Taiga doesn’t believe him for a second.


End file.
